


side effects

by foxika (kylonaberrie)



Series: foxy asides [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Existential Crisis, Implied Non-Consensual Body Modification, M/M, POV Second Person, Quin trying to be a good bf, Trauma, implied Fox/Wolffe and Fox/Thorn, mentioned slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27823411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylonaberrie/pseuds/foxika
Summary: side effects of brain recorders include feelings of lost time, memory lapses, and religious epiphanies.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox/Quinlan Vos
Series: foxy asides [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036353
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	side effects

**Author's Note:**

> from wookieepedia: "Brain recorders were technology utilized by the One Sith; a recorder attached to their Anzati agent Kell Douro's optic nerve and brain in order to record everything he saw. The implant could be activated and deactivated by the will of the Master and transmitted the data back to Douro's ship and then redirected to Korriban. The implant caused side effects for Kell, including feelings of lost time, memory lapses and religious epiphanies."
> 
> anyway the vox server was like palpatine to fox eyes emoji and i was like yeah ok
> 
> this is my first vox & also my first fic in which fox is not sex-repulsed, though like, they couldve just been naked cuddling. we don't know.

It coalesces in a moment, this strange feeling. You’ve known it your whole life, but--

_ There’s nothing you can do. _

Everything feels perfect, and cold. You’ve fought it for so long, struggled against it fruitlessly, and-- why? Why did it take you this long to realise there’s no winning against a war machine? No powering through a cement wall millennia deep? It just  _ is _ this way.

But you don’t feel hopeless. You feel free.

‘Foxy?’ Quin’s voice hums against your skin, lips brushing your neck.

‘What?’ You’ve long since given up protesting the nickname. Just like you should’ve given up everything.

You’re made to be used, and that’s that, and you can’t change it. What you can change is how you take it.

Why have you been fighting, when it’s so easier just to-- let go?

‘You went strange.’

‘I just realised something.’

‘Mmn? What’s that?’

‘Nothing I do matters.’

Quin shifts around to sit up, and you do too, the covers pooling around your waists. You even fought the idea of dating him, at first. Look how nice this turned out because you just let it happen.

Maybe everything will be easier now. Maybe everything will hurt less.

Quin side-eyes you. ‘You okay in there Fox? The propaganda finally getting to you? Cause I can promise you’ve made a hell of a lot of difference, and that’s just in what you’ve shared with me.’

‘No, it just--’ he doesn’t get it. You would think a Jedi would. The will of the force, or whatever. Then again Quin’s never struck you as a very good Jedi. ‘Look. Things happen whether I fight them or not. I can’t stop this. None of us can do anything to stop this.’ It feels-- good, to finally say it. To finally give up. Painful but  _ light, _ and clear. A weight has lifted off your shoulders. It’s not your fault anymore. Not your responsibility. ‘I think it’s supposed to be this way.’

‘You’re scaring me, Fox.’

‘No-- you aren’t  _ getting it.’ _ You’re getting a note frustrated with him, but then again, you aren’t supposed to be fighting, are you? You’re supposed to let things happen. ‘Maybe you’re not supposed to get it.’

His brows furrow in concern. ‘No-- explain it to me.’

You take a moment to think of how to. To think of every stupid fucking thing you’ve ever gone through, and how much you fought it, and how much it hurt. To think of how much you can’t free or save your brothers, and how much he can’t free or save your brothers, and how nobody who cares to can do  _ anything. _

‘We’re all trying to do things,’ you begin, ‘But we can’t, haven’t you noticed? How nothing we do has any effect? I struggle tooth and nail to keep my men safe from harm but any senator can do what they like in an instant. We wear armour into battle and we get shot and die. You’re a peacekeeper fighting a war. I’m a commander whose men go where the people above me tell them to. We  _ don’t matter.’ _

He just looks at you. You continue. ‘The Jedi couldn’t stop us from being commissioned and purchased, no matter what you tell me about what the council wants. We can’t stop each other dying on the battlefield. We can’t stop the Separatists. Everyone we can save will die later and just as horribly. The most effective thing we can do half the time is to kill ourselves, throw ourselves out there--’

‘Fox, babe, no--’

‘Stop looking at me like that!’

It’s louder than you mean it to be. He doesn’t get it, he’s trying to talk you back down into being hurt by what you can’t prevent, back into suffering and being stupid for  _ no good fucking reason. _

There’s no reason for any of this, unless this is how it was meant to be.

He does, to his credit, stop looking at you like that. ‘Please listen to me.’

You’ll listen. But you don’t expect him to be right.

‘The things you do do make a difference. Maybe not a big one. Maybe not even a visible or long lasting one. But just think about it. Think about how things would change if you didn’t do the things you did. Like tonight.’ He reaches for your hand. You let him hold it. ‘You’d’ve been doing more paperwork if I wasn’t here. Wouldn’t’ve got any rest or relaxation, probably would’ve fallen asleep at your desk, woke up with a horrible crick in your neck, been grouchy all through tomorrow, make some shiny cry. That’s the difference I make to you, here, now.’

‘That’s not what I’m talking about.’

‘I know it’s not. You’re talking about the war. You know everything’s just built up of little actions, right? How do you think we got here? The universe didn’t spit out the Republic and the Jedi and the  _ vode, _ people made things happen, and it built up. The only way we’re gonna get rid of it is by chipping it back down.’

It makes sense, and you hate that it makes sense. You want this to be  _ easy. _ ‘But--’

‘Fox, I can literally see all the differences every single fucking person makes. All the fucking ripple effects.’ He takes your shoulder, hand on your tattoo, the one of the senate’s symbol with the gear behind it removed. ‘You got this tattoo as an act of defiance, because fuck them, you’re not their cogs. You look at it in the mirror when you walk to the sonic, I’ve seen you. It feels like anger to you, and anger is the closest you can get to strength. This tattoo has saved men’s lives. Yeah, maybe they fucking died later, but what did they do in the meantime? Fuck, fall in love, save somebody else’s life, lose their minds about a toaster, hang out with their friends, spar, watch soap operas, get a taste of real food? You wanna take that happiness away from them?’

You can’t say anything. You’re lost even just in him knowing what that tattoo means to you. You didn’t think he cared that much. Didn’t think he paid attention.

He lets go of you to pick up a fistfull of blanket. ‘This blanket’s seen some fucking action. Us. You and Wolffe because he knew you needed goading into taking care of yourself, into dropping that fucking stress you carry around just for five goddamn minutes, and you thought he was just being an ass and maybe he is an ass but he loves you. You and Thorn when they were looking for an excuse to hold you. Yamper came in here when you were gone and hid under the blankets because you make him feel safe. When Hero brought Pickles in with a throat bruised to hell because they didn’t wanna try to make it to medbay you wrapped this around them try to stop the shaking. When you can’t handle anything more from the goddamn world you crawl underneath your bunk with it and pretend nothing can hurt you to get yourself to fall asleep. And you know that wasn’t the blanket, or the tattoo, doing all that. It was you.’

You’re close to tears. You don’t want to be. ‘But it doesn’t matter. We’re  _ nothing.’ _

‘You are not nothing!’

He’s yelling. You’re frozen again, for a moment not thinking, not seeing him but someone who outranks you, anger and a hold on your hand and you naked and vulnerable.

He calms down instantly. ‘Fuck, I’m sorry, Fox.’

‘Don’t be.’ You’ve already regained your senses. It’s nothing you’re not used to.

‘Try and stop me.’

You shrug. He sighs, shoulders falling, and lets go of your hand to rub at his face. ‘The thing is, Fox-- if you don’t matter, who does?’

And that’s the question, isn’t it. If nothing changes and nothing can be done, why are you here? Why is anyone here, loving and caring and hurting and being buffeted by the tide, flying in a ship set on autopilot with no destination?

‘I don’t know,’ you admit softly.

He looks at you, again so sadly, so tenderly. You hate that look. Everything you need you can do yourself. ‘You’re pulling away. You’re trying to distance yourself. If nothing matters, what is there to get angry about, to get hurt about, to cry about, to throw yourself on the saber for? Honestly it’s probably a pretty fucking normal reaction to the shit you’ve gone through. I just wish you wouldn’t.’

You wish--

You wish a lot of things. But wishing hurts, because it doesn’t work.

Wishing isn’t going to change anything.  _ Trying _ isn’t going to change anything either. You tried that. You can’t steer the ship. You can’t turn off the autopilot. You can’t make it crash, no matter how fervently you throw yourself against the console. You can get in an escape pod, but that wouldn’t change anything. It’d just remove you from this situation and put you in a new one, where you’ll have equally little effect. All levelling out to a zero sum.

‘Does it matter?’ you ask.

He sighs. ‘Matters to me.’

**Author's Note:**

> so like imagine growing up not knowing what most basic everyday items everyone takes for granted are and then you like run into a toaster and most ppl are gonna be like, oh, cool, it makes bread hot but u know theres that one guy whose like IT MAKES BREAD HOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> its me im the guy


End file.
